In the Midst
by Starr E. Knites
Summary: Chiara and Isabel don't always see eye to eye and this time is no different. After an argument between the two, Chiara left her friend's "new" house and traveled down memory lane. Waking up in a strange, yet familiar, world may have faltered her confident and stubborn nature, but it hasn't crushed her determined Italian spirit. Though, the New World could change that. AztecChiara
1. Story Info

In the Midst

by Starr E. Knites

_**Disclaimer:**__ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended._

**_Warning:_**_ This fictional fan work is rated __**M**__ due to the __**explicit scenes**__ depicting__** foul language**__,__** demeaning acts against a female**__, and __**forced sexual acts without consent**__. _

**_This work includes:_**_ cross-dressing, time travel, slight out of character reactions, history and alternate universe crossover, original character appearances, abandonment, verbal accusations and disagreements, BDSM properties, and physical/ emotional partnering of personified nations._

* * *

Chiara and Isabell don't always see eye to eye and this time is no different. After a disagreement between the two, Chiara left her friend's "new" house and traveled down memory lane. Waking up in a strange, yet familiar, world may have faltered her confident and stubborn nature, but it hasn't crushed her determined Italian spirit. Though, one undiscovered man could change that.

* * *

_**Summary: **__Nyotalia Southern Italy travels back in time and to an alternate universe. There she goes through trials with Hetalia Spain and his inquisition of the New World. Meeting Aztec and the future representative of Mexico, Chiara Vargas does her best to escape and not fall victim to the Latino's charming, but dangerous nature. _

**_Character Appearances: _**_Nyotalia South Italy (Chiara Vargas), Nyotalia Spain (Isabell Hernando Carriedo), Hetalia Spain (Antonio Fernández Carriedo), OC Aztec (Popocateptl), OC Mexico (Fernando Enriquez), Hernán Cortés, and Montezuma. _

_**Pairings: **__Nyotalia South Italy x Hetalia Aztec/ /slight Nyotalia South Italy x Hetalia Spain_

_**Roles: **__Nyotalia South Italy as Tsundere! Confused! Fight then Flight! Sumbit!  
Nyotalia Spain as Friend!  
Hetalia Spain as Care taker! Conqueror!  
__Hernán as Split Personality!  
Montezuma as Instigator!  
__OC Popocateptl as Hidden Side! Sadist!  
__OC Fernando as Chibi!_

* * *

All chapters will include an Author's Note describing a summary of the chapter. Any complaints against the author should be made through Private Messaging. Reviews are welcome, but please only have reviews that include comments toward its respective chapter.

_Thank you and enjoy reading._


	2. Chapter One

"Chiara, please. You're being a bit hard, don't you think?"

"A bit? I'd say not enough! You're weak, boss lady._ Weak_!"

Isabell flinched at the intensity of her old ward's voice. Their spats never went on this long. Usually the young Italian would've gone off and pouted at the lack of her way. But today was different.

"You're not strong at all!" she continued. "You see everything lightly and don't give them a second glance or thought. It's annoying to see someone who could've been a great empire sink to the level of an _idiot_!"

"It's not idiotic. It's just who I am," the Spaniard replied calmly.

"See! Even now you're just acting as if we were talking about the weather."

"I'm not sure why you're so upset over this, but seriously Chiara, enough is enough. Why don't we go into the kitchen and get a couple of drinks-"

Chiara bared her teeth and threw up her arms.

"No! That's it, I'm done! I'm not coming back until you've realized how important this is!"

Reaching out to Chiara to embrace her in a hug, Isabell stepped forward but was stopped by the look of pure aggravation on her friend's face.

"Realize exactly what I'm talking about. How you don't view the world as a true person should and that everything needs to be taken to heart. Don't try and change my mind about it. The world is a serious place. Fit in, or get _permanently_ left behind."

With that said, she turned on her heel and made her way out the door.

"Chiara, wait! _¡Espere!_"

Ignoring her, Chiara opened the door and stepped out into the chilled winter air. Her curls bounced with every step that took her further away from the new house.

* * *

_Idiota… Maledetto Idiota. This is all your fault. Why can't you be serious like everyone else? Nothing gets done, no recognition or awards, the economy has suffered more lately. Shit, this is all your fault. Why don't you act your age for once?_

I had walked quite a ways through the town and found myself wandering close to Isabell's old home. Not even caring anymore, I continued my trek and came across the nearly forgotten path. Large trees lined the sides of the weather beaten dirt road. There were weeds now and the grass brushed against my knees as I trudged through it.

_I forgot about this place. I wonder if anything is left. _

My question was answered when I rounded the corner and was met with the sight of a ruined house. The fairly large estate looked dwarfed next to the now empty landscape only dotted with unruly vegetation. Continuing on, I carefully watched where my feet landed hoping that there weren't any animals hiding in the tall grass.

"Would you look at that? You almost look as bad as your Isabell," I told the silent house in a snarky tone.

I stepped onto the cracked patio and walked up to the permanently open door. The inside was trashed. Part of the ceiling was caved in and the wall near the ruined stairs was crumbled to almost dust. Going down the wide hallway, I cautiously made my way toward the back room.

A small smile crept up from the side of my mouth. In the middle of the room, there rested a huge Sycamore table. I walked up to it and ran my fingers over the still smooth grain.

"I can't believe I used to hide under you… I guess back then I was small enough to."

Kneeling, I crawled under it, getting my skirt and tights dirty from the unkempt floor. Sitting down, my back arched to keep my head from hitting the top. Uncomfortable, I just laid down in the murk of the floor and blinked against the attacking swarm of dust motes.

"_Maledetto Idiota_," I whispered darkly.

I stared at the empty spider web that made its final home at conjunction of the leg and top, in front of me. Tiny cracks of sunlight streamed through the less dirty spots in the window. They swirled and danced along with the motes that floated to a tuneless song in front of my eyes. I watched them with vague interest for a little while. But soon felt my head get heavy.

Eyelids drooping and taking longer blinks each time, I felt myself drift off to sleep in the cool room.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Hello there. This is a new turn for me since i really should be finishing my other projects before starting this one. Eh, why not though?! I love this kind of thing so don't hate me. Don't like, don't read right? I'm not really going to explain exactly how Chiara travels in time since that's a whole other story itself. Just leave it up to your own imaginations, ok? Here's a shout out to my nice little friend Liz for giving me the "a-ok" for borrowing her characters that I've come to love. Liz, let's get a semi-happy ending for this tragic never-could-happen-but-hey-admin-can-dream-can't-she pairing. Grazie~


	3. Chapter Two

Stomping in the hallway startled me awake. Jerking up, I narrowly missed hitting the table top's underside with my head.

_How did Isabell find me so quickly?_

I was about to crawl out and give her a piece of my mind for scaring me like that, but another set of footfalls stopped me immediately. Crouching slowly, I peeked out the side and saw the swish of a dress' skirt fluttering by. High, feminine voices sing-songed in Spanish conversing about a journey for their master. That's when I noticed something off about my current surroundings.

The dirty, decaying floor was now shiny and polished. The wall that was almost dust in the wind was fully formed and now housed what looked like a large picture. The women who had been near me stepped outside together, still chatting.

"_Che cazzo_…?" I whispered to myself.

_What the hell is going on? How long was I asleep!?_

I poked my head from out of the table and crawled toward where the hallway was. A glance around the corner told me that no one was there. Yet a longer look told me something else. The house, Isabell's old house from when I lived with her as a child, was restored. The hall table, the front door, and from my vantage point, what appeared to be the parlor too! Everything was back the way it was.

"No way. How'd this happen?"

Giggles and a high laugh was heard behind me and I turned to see the two women coming back in.

_Oh no. Oh No._

I scrambled up quickly and ran as quietly as possible to the stairs. They came in and stood by the table. I held my breath.

_Their clothes. They're dressed like old times…_

The beautiful and intricately embellished dresses clung to their bodies, highlighting unnatural curves.

_They're servants? But their dresses are so pretty. _

My Spanish was never the best, but I understood the basics of what the two servant women were talking about. Their master, the man who owned this house, would be departing from Spain today to go on a journey.

_Then this isn't Isabel's house after all. Another person owns it._

They began to walk again toward me, so I quickly went up the stairs to find a place to hide. Even if I had used to live here, I don't recognize those servants, and if they found me I'd be in deep trouble. Rounding the corner silently, I slipped myself into an empty room and closed the door.

_Please god, please. Don't let anyone find me until I'm able to hide._

How long can I keep hidden in such a house? It's already strange enough that I've woken up to its restoration, but in such a time? I looked at my clothes and knew that if anyone saw me I would be persecuted as a strange prostitute or a witch possessed by a succubus.

I glanced around the small room. It was bedroom. A bed, a night table, a wardrobe, a small window. The light that filtered in was just enough for me to open the wardrobe and quietly rejoice that there were clothes inside. Pulling out a set, my happiness turned quickly to dismay.

"Men's clothes… Men's servant clothes. Oh, yeah! That's perfect!" I whispered sarcastically.

Hearing someone walk by, I grumbled about the lack of options and quickly got dressed. I hid my clothes under what seemed like fairly unused ones and closed the wardrobe's doors.

It just so happened that right as I did that, the door to the room opened.

"Shit!" I exclaimed.

Expecting the owner of the room to start yelling, I braced myself for the oncoming slew of Spanish profanities. Met with no such welcome, I noticed that there wasn't a man there, but a little girl?

_No, wait. That's a boy. Why is he wearing a maid's clothing? _

The boy looked at me with a harsh, confused expression. His eyebrows knitted in aggravation and mouth slightly open in suspicion. He looked ready to start accusing me of worse crimes than the owner of the room would.

"Um, hi?" I offered in Spanish.

At that, his mouth made a deep frown. He narrowed his eyes and left the doorway to go down the hall.

I peeked out and saw him pick up a cloth that was discarded by another door. He glanced back at me, but other than that went about his job of cleaning doorknobs.

_Why does he seem familiar? I mean… _

I focused on him harder and analyzed the soft pink of the dress to the dark forest green of his pants. Plain shoes, a head scarf, and-

_A curl. That is one outrageous piece of hair…_

I watched as the lone standing strand bobbed up and down with the boy's movements.

_I definitely would remember someone like him. I guess I really am in a different place. It's definitely Isabel's house… just- different._

"¡ Oh! Tú, ven aquí!"

I flinched a bit at the high voice commanding my attention. Turning around, I saw one of the women from downstairs come toward me with a worried look. She went on about delivering something in Spanish, but she spoke so fast that I was confused over exactly what I was needed for.

"…Lo siento. ¿Qué debo hacer?" I asked politely, hoping that my terrible Spanish was at least slightly understandable.

The woman groaned, and in a clipped tone repeated what she had said, "Tienes que llevar equipaje del señor Carriedo a la nave."

_She wants me to take luggage to a ship? But who is Mr. Carriedo? _

Still unsure, I nodded and walked with her to a room where a medium sized trunk and small bag laid neatly on the floor. I hesitantly grabbed the bag and slung the leather strap on my shoulder. Then leaned down to pick up the trunk.

_Gah, it didn't look this heavy! _

Huffing, I pulled the heavy thing up and followed the woman back out of the room. The boy dressed in girl's clothes looked at me curiously before frowning again and returning to his work on the same doorknob.

"Usted necesita viajar rápidamente. A la nave saldrá por la noche."

Try as I might, I still didn't fully comprehend her rapid fire words. So I grunted, hoping that this would pass off as a man's response. We walked down the stairs and out the door where a cart and driver waited. The man and woman exchanged a few words as I put the things in the back of the cart.

_I have to go with this guy? Well, it is an escape. I can probably lose him and get away from here when I give this "Carriedo" person his things._

I climbed up to sit next to the man and sat down. He signaled the woman and flicked the reins to make the horse start walking.

_Crap, how long does it take to get to the ocean from here anyway?_

* * *

**Author's Note**

Alright, my Spanish is terrible so if i made any mistakes please politely inform of it (them) and correct me. You can all see why I role play as this Southern Italian. We're both bad Spanish speakers. Woe is us. Other than that, i guess the pace of this story is going quite well. Chiara is now on her way to discover who this mystery Carriedo person is. Though, i'm sure we can all guess who's amazing ass she'll find.


	4. Chapter Three

We hit another bump, sending my dozing head upright. The day was late now as the sun crept ever so closer to the western horizon. I watched as little wispy clouds condensed and then vanish without a moment's notice.

The man sitting beside me was middle aged. Well, he would be if I was in my current time that is. He was considered old here, because after listening to him ramble for an hour or so, I came to realize that everything was as if in the early fifteen hundreds. The wording, the slight difference in dialect, our surroundings. Everything was like it was when I was a kid, with some minor alterations.

One, the house that looks so near exactly alike to my Isabel Hernando-Carriedo's is owned by a man named also named Carriedo. I don't remember her having any family besides her father Iberia, but even then he was long dead before I came to live with her.

Another thing was that the technology is a bit off. They still use these horse drawn carts. By the fifteen hundreds, we were using these gear types that ran by turning a handle.

Lastly, we had implemented nice, smooth concrete roadways. It was much more productive than dirt or cobblestone like this one.

The man spoke up suddenly saying that we would reach the harbor just before nightfall. I nodded and tugged at the hair tie he had given to me earlier. I wasn't used to my hair being put up by ribbons. That was something my sister Alice liked to do since her hair was long. My cocoa locks would just brush the tops of my shoulders in flowing curly waves.

Not that I hated that or anything. In fact, because of its length, I wasn't really questioned. Spanish women took great pride in the upkeep of their hair. The longer the better.

I glanced to the man driving the cart with a languid smile on his face.

_My short hair saved me. That and my lack of cup size…_

Moving along at a steady pace on the bumpy lane was quiet and thoughtful. Hopefully I can get some real clothes soon.

* * *

Businesses, carts, fish and produce, and people. So many people. This really was a busy port. Even though it was almost night, bodies bustled to and fro to complete exchanges and put away their wares. It was almost chaotic appearing. All I could do was stare at fast moving scene in awe.

_At least I won't really be noticed? _

I started to compile a mental list in my head and think of an escape route that would benefit me in the long run in case of complications. For the sake of me, and my people, I cannot get caught.

A country's life is their people's lives. Do not fall. Keep standing strong for them.

_Even if I can't feel anyone, it's better to be safe than sorry._

The cart came to a jerky halt and I held on for fear of falling. About to jump off as soon as the cart stopped its shaking, I was startled out of my mind when a hand grabbed my shoulder familiarly.

"¡ Vamos!" the man cheerfully exclaimed over the loud crowds.

_Great… _

I sighed bitterly, before climbing down to grab the heavy trunk and bag. The man rubbed his back and stretched before going to the horse to call out orders. I looked around and saw only a few boats and a couple ships out on the water. One of them was where this Carriedo was on. I couldn't guess which one though.

_Maybe he's a merchant? He might be on one of those transport boats. _

"Bien, aquí hemos terminado." (1)

I turned to look at him and nodded with a slight frown. I _needed_ to get out of here. I don't know how, but there has to be a way. No matter what happens, I need to leave as soon as I drop these things off.

The man walked off toward the docks and I followed. The trunk was really heavy. I wish I could say that I was a girl and make him carry it, but that'd be death.

_Cross-dressing like this reminds me of Hungary. He'd love doing something like this. _

Instead of analyzing my surroundings, I imagined Hungary as a woman willingly dressing up as a man.

_Ha! Mai in questa vita. _(2)

"Ven, ven. Aprúrate." (3)

Shifting my hold on the trunk, I grunted and sped up my walking. We turned to the water and I looked at the ship we would be temporally boarding.

_Santo cazzo… _(4)

Small trading ship, my ass. Never had it dawned on me that this man would be on a large Spanish galleon. I recognized the tell-tale four masts standing tall above the great ship. I'd never been on one, but after being around for hundreds of years, no one would dare forget how versatile these vessels could be.

_The New World. This Carriedo man is traveling to the New World. Somewhere in Latin America. Oh Maria… This is history right in front of me._

I stared in awe at the fact that this ship would be traveling so far and with—well, who knows who else would be on board. This was history in the making and I'm here to watch it. We walked along the dock and up to deck where I shifted the weight of the trunk in my grasp.

_So heavy…_

Busy men flitted back and forth doing their jobs by moving provisions and cargo. The man with me went over to a not-so preoccupied deck hand and started conversing with him. They were out of earshot so I couldn't hear anything, but I did see a few eyes wander my way appearing curious. The younger man nodded and pointed towards the back of the ship where the doors to get to the captain's cabin were. My traveling partner came back to me and guided me through the small crowd of sailors to the cabin entrance. I heaved the trunk up again and grinded my teeth at how much my fingers were starting to hurt.

" ¿Hay algún problema?" he asked me. (5)

A sharp grunt and rough "no" was my curt response as I huffed at the furniture in my hold.

When he finally signaled me to put it down, I almost dropped it on my feet in relief. I leaned my palms on the top before standing up to meet the eyes of my elder companion. His furrowed brows and uneasy expression was what had me nervously glancing to the left. A tall young man, with curly brown hair and bright green eyes stood with arms crossed and a deep scowl on his face.

I swallowed and took the bag off my shoulder and set it down next to the trunk.

"¿Quién eres? No sé de ti." (6)

His voice sounded gravelly and upset. I straightened my shoulders and pursed my lips. I didn't want to believe it, but I had a strong feeling that this was Carriedo. If Isabel cut her hair and grew manly features, this would probably be her when angry. I cleared my throat and tried to make it deeper sounding.

"Sólo soy un siervo, maestro," I responded as politely and subservient as possible. (7)

He narrowed his eyes at that though and deepened the frown he wore.

_Did I say something wrong?_

"No trabajas para mí. ¿Quién eres!" (8)

I jerked at the sudden shout and tried my best to rack up an apology and excuse. How was I supposed to know that I was going to be meeting the master of the house? How was I supposed to know that he knew _every_ one of his servants? He stalked up to me and I made the mistake of backing up. He grabbed me by the collar of the shirt I stole and glowered down at my frightened self.

"Eres un polizón." (9)

_What does that mean?! I'm confused now. What're you accusing me of?_

He shoved me away with a snarl and practically barked at the elder man. I watched in terror as he punched him to the floor then turn and kick the trunk. My wide eyes watched the elder man cough and stay down, looking as if he failed at life itself.

Before I could stop myself, I turned to Carriedo and kicked his leg in.

Carriedo fell to his knees and grabbed my wrist to bring me down sharply. I fell on the trunk elbow first and yelped at the stabbing pain that radiated through my arm. Pushing his weight to brace up on me, I found myself in a very compromising position. I stared at the fiery green eyes that glared daggers. His forearm was along my neck, practically blocking off all oxygen, and a fist raised, ready to unleash an onslaught of attacks to my face.

"Dime quién eres o ser asesinado por mi mano." (10)

Out my mind wheezing, I gasped out a muffled "fuck you" in the World's language. He didn't seem to hear and only pushed harder. The door to the cabin opened and a man's voice called out to Carriedo. He shoved himself off me and looked to the new man who was trying hard not to make eye contact with neither me nor the old man.

"Hermos dejado el puerto, Señor España," the sailor reported. (11)

My face fell. I only heard the words "left port".

_Left port? We're leaving now? No!_

I scrambled up to my feet and collided shoulders with both Carriedo and the sailor as I ran out of the cabin and to the deck. The ship hadn't gone too far, but it was enough to where I almost had tears in my eyes.

_I can still jump off and swim! I'll make it! _My thoughts rushed through my mind a thousand kilometers a hour as I reached my hands to grab the rail and hoist my body up swing over the side. Two hands grabbed my arms and pulled me back.

"No! Mi lasci andare!" I screamed in Italian. "Rilascio di me, bastardo!" (12)

My slim body was forced down to the deck's floor before being held forcefully. Arms pinned to my sides, legs kicking out and hair now loose and wild as I shook violently against whoever was keeping me aboard. I yelled again and almost bit my tongue when I was punched.

Gasping at the pain, I looked up to Carriedo who was returning my gaze. Though his expression was very, very upset. Other men surrounded us and I realized that the person holding me wasn't the sailor who had come into the room, but the old man. His arms kept me to him fast and I ceased my struggles. I wasn't going anywhere.

"Es un Italiano. Es un polizón! Encharlo en cadenas." (13)

Men moved aside and a sailor came to assist the old man and locking me up. As they dragged me away from the others, I stared hatefully at the man with green eyes. He sneered and shouted at our retreating forms to be heard throughout the entire ship.

"Que se pudra!" (14)

I have never hated a mortal man so much in my entire existence.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Wowie. Okay, so let's start from the beginning. This is Chiara Vargas. She is the representative of Southern Italy and a personification of the people who live there and believe themselves to be citizens (they don't have to be official citizens for her to feel them). Okay, so Nyotalia North Italy is Alice (pronounced Al-ee-chay)Vargas. Chiara has short dark brown hair and Alice has long light brown hair. Chiara is about a 34B while Alice is a 34C (poor things/ oh who am I kidding, I'm Alice's size). So now that you know that, all you need to understand is that I'm the creator of Hetalia meets Nyotalia on DeviantArt. It's hard to move from a doujinshi to regular fanfiction, but I'm trying. In Hetalia meets Nyotalia, Hetalia Rome caused a shift in power in the Nyotalia universe making the Roman empire last longer than it was supposed to. Hence why in here, Chiara mentioned that the technology was different. The Dark Ages didn't really happen and nations flourished with technology and intelligence. Now that being said, History is still kind of matching around this point. Europe in Nyotalia didn't feel the need to go exploring the West until around the same time Hetalia did. That is why Chiara isn't totally confused as to what is going on.

Whew, we meet Antonio. Don't worry, Spain x S. Italy shippers. Your time will come. Just not now. Chiara is seriously hating this guy. That won't really change majorly either. So patience young ones.

This story contains English, Spanish, Italian, and Nahuatl (which is going to be like "wah? me no know dis"). My Spanish is not good. REMEMBER if you see any major mistakes in spelling for SPANISH or any simpler alternatives that I don't know about for SPANISH, let me know politely please. For those needing a translation because you couldn't guess what was being said, refer to the key below.

(1) Alright, we are done here.

(2) Ha! Never in this life.

(3) Come, come. Hurry up.

(4) Holy fuck.

(5) Is something wrong?

(6) Who are you? I do not know you.

(7) I am but a servant, master.

(8) You do not work for me. Who are you!?

(9) You are a stowaway.

(10) Tell me who you are or be killed by my hand.

(11) We have left the port, Mister Spain.

(12) No! Let me go! Release me, bastard!

(13) He is Italian. He is a stowaway! Throw him in chains!

(14) Let him rot!

Hope you'll stick around. We'll be getting to Cuba at the end of the next chapter.


	5. Chapter Four

There is no light. It can't reach this far down. In the depths of the ship, I sat down alone in a dark room. The floor was damp and the air thick. I was starving.

_What kind of monster puts a man in the brig to rot? Carriedo does. _

My hate had increased tenfold during my time in the ship's cell. I lost track of how long I had been down here, but if I had to guess, it would've been past three weeks at least. That's three weeks without food. Three weeks without water. Three weeks without clean air. Three weeks without any sunlight…

_If I could die now, my only regret would be that I didn't kill that bastard. _

The creaking of wood and crashing of waves hadn't lulled me to sleep like one would think it would. Instead I lay awake. Barely getting any peace to rest, I watched nothing. Those dust motes that I'd remembered seeing before waking to this terrible nightmare couldn't be seen here. Here, in this dank prison.

* * *

"Excuse me, Señor España."

I glanced up to the first mate with zero interest of what he was about to say. The journey to Cuba was almost over, but we still had more than two weeks ahead of us. I raised a brow waiting for him to continue as I finished writing down the ship's log for that day.

"Ah, well sir… I was wondering about that young man. The one we put in the brig? Anciano had alluded to disease. If we don't get rid of the body, he could start up a sickness."

As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point. The last thing we need is the crew picking something up and bringing pestilence to Santiago. I gave the first mate a curt nod and told him to take care of it.

"Oh, that's the problem sir. We would go and throw the body overboard ourselves, but—"

He trailed off and I narrowed my eyes before sighing and standing up. They want me to get the body. I'm stronger than anyone else on this ship and could never fall like they would. Brushing past him, I let the man feel my contempt as I went out of the cabin and made my way down the ship.

Not many were on and deck, and the further I went down, the less activity there was. It was late into the night. Everyone was either sleeping or on watch making my job easier. I wouldn't have a troubled time getting past anyone with a rotting corpse this way. As I got closer and closer to the door that would lead me straight to the secluded brig, I mentally prepared my nose for the telltale stench of decayed skin and maggot infested intestines.

The door I pushed open led to a slight stink, but nothing like I was expecting. Going down the narrow corridor lined with iron bars, I looked through the first three of four cells to find the boy who attempted to get a free ride to Cuba. The last holding cell was where I found him.

Laying up against the wall, I a tangle of soggy clothes and excrement, was a very living, breathing man. My eyes widened at sight in front of me. I wasn't holding a mortal man.

_I'm holding a country. _

"You're alive," I said softly.

He jerked and I saw his mouth turn to a fine line in the dim lighting.

* * *

The words that met my ears burned. The world's language. The speech that every nation was blessed with. Only we could speak it. It sounded like gibberish to men, but eerily like Latin to me. Yet he, _Carriedo_, was speaking it. To me.

_Damn. I'm found out. _I scowled and turned my head away from the son of a bitch. _Why the hell is he a fucking country? Inferno. Cazzo inferno._

"How are you alive?" he asked me. "You're just an Italian stowaway."

I ignored him. I refuse to answer to him. The whole idea of what was going on, what was happening to me, was starting to click together.

"Answer me, or I'll starve you out."

_Santa merda, he's serious. _

I let my eyes wander to where he stood. Carriedo had his arms crossed over an unbuttoned shirt and had his brown curly hair loose to pass over his shoulders.

_Broad shoulders… Fuck. Just fuck you, you good looking bastard. _

"Vaffanculo, bastardo."

He didn't appear any more annoyed than he already was, so I knew that he was going to keep trying to get it out of me one way or another.

He smirked. The damn bastard smirked!

"You speak Italian quite fluently, so I know that is your country of origin. Though, you speak Spanish as well. And here we are. A man who speaks two languages and also does not die."

I stayed quiet and waited.

_He's starting to figure it out too. Shit._

"Men are supposed to die after three days and three nights without food and water," Carriedo ground out in a soft voice with a deadly tone. "You must be like me."

I closed my eyes.

_Then he really is Spain. Just like Isabel, but a man. No wonder the house and everything looked the same. Except for some differences, it's like my past. Though this isn't my past. _

My eyelids fluttered open to lock in a glare match with the green eyed devil on the other side of the bars. He did not budge and I knew now what happened when I woke up.

_I'm not in my world. This place, where I am now, is a whole other universe. _

"Strange…"

I narrowed my eyes at that. He continued.

"I already know the two men, or in this case, _boys_ who make up Italy. You can't be a sibling of theirs without my knowledge. So you can't represent Italy."

I blinked and said nothing.

He suddenly broke out into a small grin that plainly spelled out trouble and laughed. "Sorry for the inconvenience. Come, come. Let us get you into fresh clothes."

I opened my mouth to shed profanities at how strange he was. Who can change their personality so quickly and flawlessly? Carriedo was beyond troubling my mind. I had no idea what to make of the man, country, except that he was extremely irritating and needed a good kick in the ass.

He opened iron door to step inside and pull me to my feet by my upper arm. I staggered after not standing for so long and he held me fast to him. Draping my slim arm across his shoulders, he led me out and up to the deck. The stillness of the ship had me on edge. Shadows cast by the moon swept before us then disappeared. We walked, well more like he walked and I dragged, around the ship until we found ourselves at the Captain's cabin door. Carriedo opened it and led me inside before depositing me, not too gently, on the wooden floor.

_I'm done with floors now. Never again. I need a bed or else my butt is going to show a wood grain tattoo. _

He dug through the trunk I had delivered to him weeks prior and fished out a set of clothes. Plain white shirt and brown trousers. Men's clothes.

I was beginning to feel sexless after wearing unflattering clothes for so long. I longed to wear a dress that hugged my curves and showed off my body. Never in my life had I felt such a want for frilly, girly clothing.

"Over behind you is bath. Get clean and change your clothes."

My brows furrowed and looked over where he had directed me to. There was a small corner that had a barrel nestled, hidden from obvious sight. I gasped, trying to pin down the sudden fright that came bubbling in my chest.

_Crap! He's going to find out that I'm a woman and this time I won't be put away, I'll be killed!_

Carriedo was searching the trunk again, for who knows what, so I stood up hoping that I could still jump off the ship and die. Better to die through my own means than by the hands of another.

"Where are you going?"

I flinched and reached my arm out to fling the door open for my escape. He caught my out stretched hand, forcefully bringing me to him.

"What is wrong with you? You try to run away at any given moment," he wondered aloud.

I didn't struggle, not entirely convinced that he would revert straight back to the same man I had first met. The evil, violent Carriedo that I knew.

"You're just in shock. That's it. Here let me help you bathe and put you to sleep."

_No! Forget whatever I said, he's not touching me!_

Pulling away and trying to break from his grasp, I resumed my prior struggles.

Not even breaking a sweat, he simply started to peel away the grimy shirt that clung to the layer of dirt on my sweaty skin. The buttons came undone and the loosened cloth revealed caked splotches of grey-white salt that grew in communities along my shoulders. Pulling it even further, Carriedo was exposed to the view of the light tan that I bore. Tiny red spots from the mites that had feasted on my blood, peppered my upper chest. His large calloused hands had immediately stopped when he realized what he was dealing with.

The rise and fall of my breasts gave away my labored breathing. I watched his fingers twitch then pull away from my heated, dirty skin. He wasn't disgusted. I saw the change in his eyes. The serious, yet playful gleam they held melted to something darker. He blinked. Then swallowed.

"I'll leave you to yourself then."

The Spaniard backed away and left the room without another word. A few more heavy breaths was all I needed to turn around go to the barrel of cool water for a bath. Mouth parched and eyes hot, I soaked myself numb before realizing that I needed to scrub the stubborn debris clinging onto me. Finishing up by dunking my hair in the putrid suds, I let the thought of Carriedo's reaction wander back to my mind.

_This can only mean one thing, and it's not going to end well._

* * *

He came back long after I had settled myself on the couch. He had stayed by the door, watching waiting, thinking, who knows. When he quietly shuffled in, I felt those powerful eyes on me, searching. I pretended to be asleep.

It didn't work.

Carriedo went up to the small loveseat sized couch that I laid on and kneeled down on his knees.

"You may have my bed. A guest should be treated more comfortably than the host."

I exhaled and kept my eyes closed. "Sincerest apologies," I sarcastically responded, "but I do not need your pity. I'd rather die."

"Miss… I'm sorry that I treated you in such an ill manner. My apologizes go out to you full heartedly."

_The bastard is apologizing? Ew._

"I don't need your damn apologies either. I'm fine on the couch. Now leave me alone before I change my mind about jumping overboard."

My threat made its mark. He rose and went over to his bed and laid on top of the covers, not changing his clothes. I knew he was curious about me. He wanted to know why I presented myself as a man, traipsed the harbor as his servant, and attempted to flee not once, but twice on his watch. My existence was an unsolved mystery and he wanted in on the juicy facts. I wouldn't let him though.

_No matter how nice he appears to be right now, his true nature was the one he revealed to me when we first met. He's nothing but a lying, hateful, damned country going about as a sea captain. That damn asshol-_

"What is your name?" he asked me in a whisper through the dark.

_FUCKING BITCH. I'M NOT ANSWERING YOU. _

I ignored his question and kept my mouth closed. The quiet creaks of the wood and tiny laps of the waves hitting the ship were a stark contrast to what I heard below in the brig. Light breathing, fluttering wind, shimmering moonlight. I let these caress my fatigued senses and guide me toward the path of peaceful slumber.

"My name is Antonio. Antonio Fernández-Carriedo, of Spain."

My lip quivered and I opened my eyes.

"What's your name?"

_Don't tell him. Just go to sleep. Ignore the bastard._

"Chiara," I whispered. "Chiara Vargas."

"That's a beautiful name," he told me.

I could hear the smile in his deep voice.

_Dio… this is going to be the death of me._

"Sleep well, Chiara."

I didn't. I listened silently, awake the whole night and into the brisk dawn.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Uh, okay so we didn't make it to Cuba. They'll be there next chapter! I promise! Because after the Cuba/meeting Cortes chapter, we get to skip straight to Mexico and meet our all-time-favorite-OC-that-doesn't-belong-to-me, Aztec! Yay~ Celebration

In this chapter it is a bit confusing on some parts, so if you are iffy about a section let me know. I am more than willing to explain what's happening. Here we open up with Chiara in the brig practically dying. Now, it has been mentioned a few times that the nation has to be strong for their people. If the people get weak, they make the country weak. But it is also reversible. If the country becomes weak, then the people can suffer in turn. Now "weak" can mean many things. The country can get injured, eventually starve or thirst, go crazy, become impaired, etc. They're like normal people, but different ailments cause different effects toward the citizens. Same goes the other way around. Suffering citizens will show physically on countries. We don't know (we never know lol) if the citizens in Southern Italy are ever affected by all the things Chiara goes through. Oh well.

So everybody should now know why Antonio went down to discard Chiara's body. If someone got sick and it turned into a plague, then he would suffer. But since he's strong due to his economy/citizens' nationalism, he wouldn't contract anything thus making him immune to any sickness the body could've carried if it were decayed.

Antonio figured out Chiara was a nation, though he's very confuzzled as to which one she could be. The world's language is simply the language all the countries speak universally. Not everyone can speak English, so a country can speak their most popularly recognized language and also the world's language. That way there's no language boundaries between those personified countries. (Like America can speak all the languages that the US officially recognizes and the world's language.)

After all that, we see Spain's true happy, carefree attitude surface. Chiara thinks that he's really a evil psychopath. We know better though, huh? She'll figure it out eventually (not).

Anyone else get grossed out by the description of the stuff on her? I mean, "salt communities"? Ew. Nasty. If you don't know what I'm talking about, imagine yourself getting out of the bath and covering your arms in little spots of solar salt (the stuff used to melt snow from your driveway). Now let your arms get ashy, dry and leave the salt alone. It gets harder. It get bigger. And it hurts like a mofo. Now after three weeks, try scrapping that shit off your arms. That's what Chiara had to do. And when she took that "luxurious" bath of her's, she didn't have a razor, comb, shampoo, conditioner, wash cloth/bath poof, moisturizer, or lotion. IMAGINE. WASHING. YOUR HAIR. IN. NASTY. THREE WEEK. GRIME WATER. ew...

Okay, and other than that, pretty much everything else was self-explanatory. Need more info? Don't hesitate to ask. K, addio. See you next chapter!


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